


Ineffable Attraction

by ThatScottishShipper



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Worship, Colors, Desire, Don’t post to another site, Emotions, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Good Omens Kink Meme, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pheromones, Sex, Spoilers, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 14:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/pseuds/ThatScottishShipper
Summary: Aziraphale can feel love. Crowley, as a demon, can feel desire or want. When they can feel it coming off of the other, towards them, it’s a huge turn on.*Inspired by Good Omens Kink Meme Prompt, in author's notes.*





	Ineffable Attraction

_ Love _ .

Love felt everywhere, a heartwarming sensation all around Aziraphale, vibrating with the intensity of a hummingbird’s wings.

Sometimes, it felt like there wasn’t enough love to go around these days, so when the Angel felt it blooming inside his heart, his whole world felt touched by a pink light.

He felt it when they came to Tadfield, a blessed source of love that enveloped everything, and he came to understand that was Adam’s love. Adam’s love for his home, love for his friends, his dog, and his parents.

Such a beautiful emotion had touched his heart, enriched his faith in the life of all creatures great and small.

The Angel often experienced the catalogue of emotions as readily as though they were his own, but recently, what began as a curious whisper changed overtime into the unavoidable sharp voice of Love, beckoning him with unspoken sentiment.

And it always came from Crowley.

These days, since Crowley became a permanent resident inside his resurrected bookshop, Aziraphale drowned in the feeling of Love.

Like a fresh coat of paint caressing every wall inside his sanctuary of literature, his dusty tomes heralding the procephies that came and those to be, the Angel felt his heart flutter, overcome by such positivity existing in one place.

His Dear Crowley, lounged upon the recliner, his fingers caressing the burst of green leaves from the nearby plant. 

For a former Fallen Angel, Crowley’s touch bore a ghost-like tenderness, his fingers singing to each leaf, communicating all the words he locked away.

As for Crowley, tried as he might, there was no denying the sensuality drifting like sunset clouds from Aziraphale in the corner of his vision. Demons were finely tuned to the desires and wants of humanity.

But an Angel? An even harder feat to ignore in the throes of need.

From lifetimes past, the Fallen Angel sensed a peculiar ember burning inside his companion on the opposition’s side. He tried to overlook it, passing it off as the goody two shoes nature of a kindly saint determined to save a damned soul such as him.

But like Crowley’s Love, Aziraphale’s wants spiked sharply with every encounter, and the Demon was spellbound by the brilliance of the ruby reds, magenta pinks, and mustard gold heralding a profound intellectual… and physical desire.

It was like stardust nebula he once created, inspired by an Angel’s aura of yearning.

His glance came upon the long abandoned slice of carrot cake posed by Aziraphale’s hand. Whenever they dined together, Crowley had always found a curiosity at the Angel’s penchant for earthly food. Those same streams of light shimmered like a rainbow from where his Angel sat, dimpled smile projecting a pleasure most pure.

With every bite, Crowley was blinded by that brightness bathing him, ravishing the knowledge that Aziraphale did not  _ need _ this physical nourishment, but he  _ wanted _ to.

An Angel’s essence, their ‘body,’ was a Temple, and Gabriel never ceased to remind Aziraphale of the fact he defiled it with food, never mind a Fallen Angel’s constant closeness.

Nevertheless, Aziraphale persisted, indulging and consuming that which he did not need because he Desired so. And if that were not enough, the Angel’s appreciative looks his way over a fine glass of wine and even finer discussion magnified everything tenfold.

Even his protective shades did little in the splendour of an Angel, and he was intoxicated by that Desire.

‘_An Angel with base desires,’ _ Crowley thought with a smirk.  _ ‘That’s a new one...’ _

As Crowley’s nimble fingers toyed with the plump foliage surrounding him, he knew those sky blue eyes watched him steadily from the faraway mahogany desk. He had despised that heavenly gaze once, reminding him all too vividly of the realm he plummeted from.

Once, Aziraphale reminisced in him everything he once was, everything he lost, and could never hope to redeem.

But now?  _ Heavenly _ . Crowley felt himself redeemed every time those sparkling crystals bestowed their loving grace upon him. That perhaps, one such as him were deserving of...

_ Love. _

His chest squeezed, his breathing stilled, when he saw Aziraphale coming his way, anxiously fidgeting with his fingers.

As the Angel bashly approached, sitting by the Demon, their eyes met, and the world around them ceased to be. Even as entire civilisations soared and crashed around them, humanity becoming its own downfall time and time again, they had each other.

By Heaven and Earth, Aziraphale was never alone, and had come to cherish his companionship with this fallen Angel. More than he thought possible between the two sides.

As an arm snaked along the crown of the cushioned seat, perilously close to the Angel’s heated cheeks, Crowley tilted his head, his golden slit gaze obscured by glasses dark as nightfall. “Angel?”

Aziraphale sighed softly, lashes fluttering.

When had that once teasing nickname become such a delightful term of endearment? Something so intimate that no other referral delivered such bliss to his heart.

In a physical form, Aziraphale became too painfully aware of all the little nuances of his own feelings. Flushed cheeks, mouth like cotton, lips that felt a smidgen too dry for his liking, and an explosion of warmth inside him, blooming like a flower.

Then it dawned on Aziraphale.

All these years, speculating curiously upon these fluctuating levels of love, enveloped by Crowley’s Love until his quaint little bookshop became a nest of Love.

Crowley’s and his own.

In an instant, everything changed.

Aziraphale closed that distance spanning millennia, grown by entire lifetimes drifting in and out of each other’s worlds, only to unite like a dizzying stardust in some faraway cosmos.

In a single, clumsy kiss.

Then the fear set in, a terrifying storm of what ifs and buts brought everything to a chilling standstill.

What if Aziraphale just imagined everything? What if everything he thought he felt was just his own yearning?

Before Aziraphale contemplated that he had made the most terrible mistake, that he had committed to a faux pas most dreadful that no amount of apologies and niceties could dare remedy, an unexpected pleasantry occurred.

Crowley returned the sweet gesture by leaning in, and Aziraphale felt himself drowning in that unmistakable wonder that was  _ Love _ .

An ineffable attraction spanning eons, bound by an emotional pheromone only present to each other.

Reluctantly, Aziraphale and Crowley parted, panting softly, unable to tear away their turbulent gazes from each other.

Aziraphale sighed contently, reeling from the tingling aftermath upon his lips. Half laden eyes captured enchantment, the Angel trembled against Crowley’s slender form, realising that without meaning to, he had  _ fallen _ .

_ Fallen _ for the Fallen.

“Curse your temptation,” Aziraphale whispered swiftly, clinging dizzyingly to this infuriating source of his ineffable attraction.

Crowley’s laughter was cut short by Aziraphale once more, tugging him into another kiss. Unsurprisingly, the Angel was spurred by that very same Desire clouding Crowley’s senses, smothering Aziraphale with absolute adoration.

He broke away momentarily, whispering “ _ my Angel _ ,” then plunged their mouths together hungrily.

Unseen by mortal sight, though thankfully they were alone, an aura united around them, washing everything in a candy floss clash of carousel hues. From rustic red to pastel pink, their Love and Desire painted reality around them.

Aziraphale sang his increasing need sweetly, and Crowley all but melted against him.

Why, in all that was holy between the Heavens and Earth, had they waited so long?

Hands explored their physical forms together, with Crowley first finding fascination in the soft curves that formed his delightful companion. Elegant fingers ran along Aziraphale’s cherubic cheeks, cascaded down his chest towards his stomach, then came to caress the softness of his hips.

Aziraphale quivered, breaking off as a frightened fancy twinkled in those ethereal baby blues. Gabriel’s demeaning words still struck deeply, and he wondered if, perhaps, he was too soft in every manner of speaking.

But then when he dared to glance Crowley’s way, he gasped at what he saw.

An exposed molten gold gaze greeted him, broken by sharp slits, but very much on the Angel. At some point, Crowley removed his shades to look upon him clearly, enraptured by the sight of such a heavenly creature.

_ His _ Angel,  _ his _ Aziraphale, spread beneath him with crimson cheeks, belonging solely to him.

And in kind, Crowley’s adoration eclipsed their private bubble in a fuchsia blush. Aziraphale was helpless in the presence of such affection, swallowing him up heart and soul.

“Crow… ley…” 

“Hush, love,” Crowley finally said, resting their foreheads together, drinking deeply from his soulmate’s glistening eyes. _ “I see you _ .”

As clothes were tenderly shed, and hands resumed their reverent worship of each other, reality became muddled together.

Mutual emotions melting together, losing them behind the veil of attraction that had clouded clarity between them for so long. The truth had crystallised, blooming like a single red rose, and nothing held them back.

No longer fretting over matters such as ‘sides,’ Aziraphale surrendered his troubled heart to Crowley, who held him with profound gentleness, whispering reassurances into his ear.

Slowly, they became one, spiritually and physically, ascending together in a sweet song of intimacy. In another heated kiss, Aziraphale felt himself losing his sense of self, then sobbed once he realised that their consciousnesses too had merged.

Every thought, every feeling, of Crowley’s became his own. A Demon’s Love resided inside his body, his own physical form becoming more unclear as they danced in ecstasy.

No longer fearing the sensation of plummeting, not with Aziraphale, Crowley showered the Love thought foreign to Demonkind upon his Angel, blinded by their unified heart song.

And suddenly, plumes of white and black feathers cascading like snowflakes from above, their wings sprouting together in one last ethereal moment of vulnerability.

Then they fell one last time, bathed in a mist of rose pink that enveloped their trembling bodies. Embraced, the two lovers treasured every little part of that perfect moment.

And to immortalise the moment further, Crowley  _ smiled _ .

“Took you long enough, _darling_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Good Omens Kink Meme Prompt, [A/C, emotions as aphrodesiacs or pheromones.](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=42088#cmt42088)
> 
> Prompt: "Aziraphale can feel love. Crowley, as a demon, can feel desire or want. When they can feel it coming off of the other, towards them, it’s a huge turn on.
> 
> And actually, bonus if this is why in the series Crowley seems to like watching Aziraphale eat. He just likes to feel him want things.”
> 
> Like the husbands, writing for this ship was ineffable. Since reading Good Omens at my childhood library years ago, I fell in love with this story and it’s characters. Once I got older, the ship feels hit hard, and the TV show didn’t help.
> 
> Originally, I had been starting to write a piece about Aziraphale sensing Crowley’s Love, but after searching ye faithful kink meme and coming across this awesome prompt, I rewrote it a little.
> 
> Honestly, it’s a very prose, flowery affair because I love writing in this style. Not only did I feel it suited the prospect of emotions manifesting between these two dorks, but this is often how I perceive emotional and symbolic scenes, with strong colourful references and a Synesthesia aura style if that makes sense.
> 
> I’m very tired.
> 
> Loved writing this. 💖
> 
> Thank you very much for your time, and I hope you enjoyed reading. 💖


End file.
